


Rinse and Repeat

by Fr333bird



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-19
Updated: 2012-03-19
Packaged: 2017-11-02 05:24:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fr333bird/pseuds/Fr333bird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jasper has low self esteem. He gets drunk and has sex with just about anyone. When he sobers up enough to go home he feels even worse about himself, but his roommate Peter is always there to pick up the pieces. Adult content. AH. Written for a prompt at Twikinkfest</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Jasper**

****   
My head spins as strong hands hold me up, pinning me against the graffitied wall of the toilet cubicle.  I can taste the alcohol on my breath, stale and sweet.  My mouth’s dry, my tongue sticky and swollen.  I try to swallow, longing for water.   
  
His breathing is harsh in my ear, bitter with cigarette smoke; and I feel the stretch and burn as he prepares me roughly, taking little care.  But through the blurry mess of my thoughts, I’m aware that he does appear to be using lube at least, and I hear the tearing of what I presume to be a condom wrapper.  I can’t really bring myself to care.  He forces his fingers deeper.  I can’t tell how many are inside me now but it hurts.  The welcome pain cuts through the alcoholic fog and drags me back to the present.   
  
The fingers are pulled out of me abruptly and I gasp in surprise.   
  
“You want my dick in you now, don’t you?” His breath is hot on my neck and his voice is hoarse.  “You little cock slut, I’ll give it to you real good.”   
  
I arch back with a moan, offering him my ass.  This is what I need.  I need to be filled, drilled, pounded into the wall, fucked six ways from Sunday... because when I’m being fucked like that I lose myself.  And that’s exactly what I want.   
  
I feel the thick head of his dick at my hole and he pushes in quickly, going deep.  I gasp and scrabble at the wall for purchase, my legs buckling.  I try to spread them wider but my pants are caught around my thighs.  Hard fingers grip my hips.  The bruising pain distracts me from the burn in my ass as he starts to plow into me, balls deep with every stroke.  It feels so fucking good and I hiss through gritted teeth as my dick is pushed into the wall with each thrust.  I want to cum, but I can’t get a hand free to jack myself off and the guy fucking me is too busy holding me up.  Fuck it, I’m probably too wasted to cum anyway.  It still feels good.   
  
I drift, lost in sensation – the rough drag of his cock in my ass, his fingers digging into me, the scrape of his teeth on my shoulder.  When he grunts and cums he sinks his teeth into my shoulder, the pain shocking me back into myself as I yelp in protest.  He sags for a moment, his body hot and heavy against mine.  Then he pulls out carelessly and I hear the snap of a condom being removed.  He slaps my ass hard as he pushes past me and opens the door, pushing it shut behind him.  I lean against the wall and close my eyes.  I hear the sound of doors creaking and the heavy tread of feet.  There’s a rush of cool air on my exposed skin as the cubicle door swings back open on its hinges.   
  
“Hey man, you looking for a fuck?”  I hear footsteps and recognize the familiar voice of the guy who’s just finished with me.  “I’ve left some twink in there stretched out and ready, he might be up for more.”  He chuckles.  I feel sick.  But I always want more.   
  
I hear footsteps approach.  I don’t even bother to turn and look to see who’s behind me.  I don’t care.  The unseen man shuts and locks the door and I wait for him to touch me.    
  
“Do you want this?” His voice is softer, a little kinder than the last one.  But I can already hear the rip of a condom wrapper.   
  
“Yeah,” I whisper.  It’s nice to be asked.   
  
He doesn’t bother to use his fingers, just spreads my cheeks and pushes into me.  There’s enough lube left from the last guy for it to be comfortable.  His rhythm is different, smoother, less urgent and I drift again, my head dull from the alcohol I’ve consumed.  The world starts to slip out of focus and he curses as my legs give out.   
  
“Fuck,” he grabs me under the armpits.  “You’re wasted, you can’t even stand up anymore.”   
  
“Sorry,” I mutter, ashamed.  “I can suck you instead, if you want.”   
  
He pulls out and I turn around.  He’s older than me by ten years or more, dressed smartly, nice looking.  I don’t meet his eyes, just drop to my knees in front of him.  He pulls the condom off and I take his cock in my mouth.  He’s long and uncut.  I taste latex and the bitter salt of pre-cum.   He pushes in deep and I gag around him, my dry mouth filling with saliva.  He twists his fingers into my hair and I suck hard, feeling the drool escaping from the corners of my mouth.  I reach for my own cock and fist it quickly, impatient for release.  He doesn’t take long.  I let him fuck my mouth, but he pulls out when he cums, painting my face with thick white stripes.  The shock triggers my own orgasm and I gasp and grip myself harder, coming all over my hand and his shoes.   
  
He tucks himself away quickly and leaves without a word.  When the outer door closes behind him, I drag myself up and lean against the wall for support while I rearrange my clothes.  I stumble to the sink and splash cold water on my face, washing away the cum that sticks to my lips and cheeks.  I look at my reflection.  My hair is tangled from their hands, my face is pale.  My grey eyes stand out starkly, with purple shadows beneath them.  My gut heaves and I vomit, emptying the contents of my stomach into the sink.  At least it’s easy to rinse away; I haven’t eaten anything for hours.   


XOXOXOX

  
When I get home the apartment is in darkness.  I close the door quietly behind me, not wanting to wake Peter, my roommate.  I sink down onto the sofa and put my head in my hands as the usual flood of shame rushes through me.  Why do I do this?  Why do I do this to myself every fucking time?  I feel filthy, dirty, worthless.  But I’m trapped in this hideous cycle, like a hamster in a stupid, plastic wheel.  
  
I hear the soft pad of Peter’s bare feet and the sofa dips as he sits down next to me.  
  
“Not again, Jas.”  His voice is gentle but tinged with the disapproval that he’s unable to completely hide from me.  “It’s late.  You should get to bed.”  
  
“I need a bath first,” I mutter.  “I wanna feel clean.”  But I don’t move.  
  
We sit there for a long while in silence.  Eventually he gets up and I hear him go to the bathroom and then there’s the sound of running water.  The noise is soothing, my head feels heavy and I flop sideways, lying down and curling my knees up.  My thoughts drift aimlessly as I tread that delicate edge of consciousness between waking and sleeping.  
  
I must doze for a while, because I jerk awake as I feel a hand on my shoulder, shaking me gently.  
  
“Come on.”  
  
Peter grips my wrists gently and pulls me up, wrapping an arm around my waist and supporting me as I stagger towards the bathroom.  The bath is full of water, vapor curling up from the surface in delicate twists.  The mirror is steamed up and I’m glad that I can’t see my reflection.  I don’t want to see this broken, pathetic person.  
  
He helps me out of my clothes.  His hands are careful as he helps me pull my t-shirt over my head.  When I fumble with my fly he brushes my hands away, his fingers warm on mine.  He unfastens the buttons quickly, efficiently and pushes my pants down.  He supports me with his hands on my shoulders as I step out of them and kick them aside.  I manage to shove my underwear down and step out of those too.   
  
I feel exposed in front of Peter, naked in a way that I never feel when I’m being fucked by a stranger.  I step into the tub, wincing as I sink into the steaming water.  I sit, hunched over, hugging my knees to my chest and let my head rest on my arms.  I feel numb, somewhere outside myself again.  I lack the energy to do anything other than sit there and let the warm water soothe me.  
  
Peter wets a washcloth and runs it over my back, the fabric scratches a sore spot and I wince.  He stops and I feel him lean close to look.  
  
“What the fuck, Jas?  There are teeth marks on your shoulder.”  
  
I shrug, and he carries on washing me carefully.  His strokes are gentle, the trickle of water down my spine feels like a caress.  
  
“Close your eyes.”   
  
Peter tilts my head back and pours water over my hair.  He rubs in shampoo with his fingertips, scratching slightly.  It feels nice.  I sigh as he pours again, rinsing the suds away.  He picks up the washcloth again and wipes my face.  I remember the guy’s cum from earlier, how it stuck to my cheeks in sticky strands.  I feel a wave of nausea and breathe in sharply.  
  
“You okay?”  Peter asks.   
  
I meet his eyes for the first time tonight.  His brow furrows, his hazel eyes concerned.   
  
“Yeah,” I nod.  
  
He carries on washing me.  Smoothing the cloth down my neck and over my chest.  Lifting my arms to wash underneath them.  My body feels pliant, childlike.  I let him take care of me.  
  
“Stand up,” he says and I comply, expecting him to pass me a towel.  
  
But instead he carries on washing me, moving the cloth over my belly and hips.  He adds more soap and makes a lather, cleaning my flaccid cock and balls carefully and thoroughly.  He hisses and frowns as he notices the bruises that are forming on my hips, perfect fingerprints on the thin skin that covers my hipbones.  Then he moves the cloth around and washes my buttocks and down each thigh before telling me to sit again.  
  
Only then does he turn and reach for a towel.  He holds it out like an offering, not speaking.  I stand carefully, pushing myself up with my arms, my tired muscles complaining.  The water streams off me into the tub and he looks at me, his face sad.  
  
I step out and my feet sink into the bathmat as he wraps the towel around me.  The chill air makes my body break out in goosebumps and he rubs them away with brisk strokes.  He uses the damp towel to squeeze the water out of my hair, and then helps me wrap it around my waist and ushers me through to my bedroom.  
  
I let him dress me, lifting my legs obediently and stepping into the boxers that he rummages in my drawers to find.  I poke my arms through the sleeves of a t-shirt he has picked out and pulls over my head for me.   
  
“I need to piss,” I say.  
  
“Well I’m not helping you with that,” he grins, a quick twist of his lips that’s only a shadow of his usual wide smile.  
  
I shuffle back to the bathroom and empty my bladder.  Then I brush my teeth until my gums bleed, eradicating any traces of vomit or cum that might linger.  I chug down some water and return to my room.  
  
Peter’s still there, waiting for me.  I crawl into bed, pulling the covers up around me like a nest.  It’s only here, now, in the refuge of my bed that the tears finally come.  My shoulders shake silently and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to fight them back but they spill hot onto my cheeks and my breath catches in a tearing sob.  I feel the bed tilt and dip as Peter climbs in and wraps himself around me.  His arms squeeze tight, holding me together while I fall apart.  When my sobs subside and my breathing slows and steadies, he loosens his grip a little but stays there, warm and reassuring.  
  
“Please, Jas,” he murmurs, his hot breath tickling my neck.  “Please stop.  I can’t stand to see you like this every time.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Pete,” I whisper.  “I’m sorry.”  But I refuse to make him a promise that I’m not sure I can keep.  
  
The last thing I’m aware of as I drift into blissful unconsciousness is Peter’s body against mine.  A feeling of warmth spreads inside me, making my lips curl into a hint of a smile.  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Peter**   
  
I wake early the next morning, still wrapped around Jasper like an extra layer.  I extract my limbs gently and look down at him, relaxed in sleep.  The haunted look that his face usually wears is gone and he looks younger, like the nineteen year old he really is.    
  
Jasper’s face is pale.  His messy dark blond hair tangles on the pillow and his jaw is softly shadowed with stubble.  His eyelids flicker and as I watch, his mouth turns down at the corners, sadness tainting his features again.  Something clenches in my chest.  I’ve been in love with him for years and he has no idea.  I’ve never seen the point in telling him because I don’t believe that he could ever love me back.  My beautiful, broken best friend.   
  
I climb out of the bed carefully and slip out of his room.  I return and leave a bottle of water and some Tylenol on the nightstand, so that he’ll find them when he wakes.  I go through to my own room and slide between my cold sheets, missing the warmth of his body.  I need more sleep but it eludes me.  Instead I lie for a long time, thinking about Jasper and wishing that I could fix him.   
  
I always knew that he had this darkness inside him, but he kept a lid on it back in high school.  I was aware that things were tough for him at home.  His father was a bastard; but Jasper didn’t like to talk about it.  It wasn’t until Jasper’s mom finally kicked his dad out, when Jasper was sixteen, that he finally admitted to me that his father was an abusive alcoholic who’d treated him and his mom like shit for years.  His Father left town and never got back in touch.  Jasper was glad to see the back of him.   
  
Jasper seemed to handle it okay; he got through high school with decent grades.  He fooled around with girls while I watched from the sidelines.  I already knew then that I wanted Jasper, but assumed that he was straight.    
  
He was the first person that I came out to.  I needed him to know and he was cool about it.  He never treated me any differently, and I never told him that I had feelings for him that went beyond friendship.   
  
We ended up at college together in Seattle.  Neither of us had wanted to move too far away from family, so it was the obvious choice.  We got a place together and that’s when everything started to get fucked up.  Jasper started going out a lot at night, drinking heavily.  At first he’d pick up girls and bring them back to the apartment, and I’d try not to listen while he fucked them.    
  
Then, after a while, he stopped bringing girls home but would stay out later and later every night.   When I challenged him about it, he told me that he thought he might be gay.  He was experimenting, he said – as though it was something fun and exciting and I should be happy for him.  But he never asked me if I wanted to go out to the clubs with him.  I was worried about him.  Every time he went out he’d come back in a worse state than the time before.  He’d stagger in drunk, smelling of sex.  But he always looked defeated rather than satisfied.  I took to waiting up for him – to make sure that he got to bed okay, I told myself.    
  
But last night – last night was the worst I’ve ever seen him. The sight of him in the bathtub, so vulnerable, marked by careless teeth and fingers made me want to weep.  I roll onto my front, burying my face into my pillow and clench my fists as I feel the hot tears prickling behind my eyelids.  I don’t know how much longer I can bear to watch him do this to himself.   
  


XOXOXOX

  
We never talk about what happened, but after that night something changes.  Jasper stops going out to the clubs.  Sometimes we go out for drinks with friends from college and he still drinks too much when we do, but we end up going back to the apartment together.  Other nights he just stays in and we hang out, studying together, or watching TV and playing video games.    
  
He still looks miserable half the time and doesn’t take care of himself.  But the self-destructive cycle of going out and getting fucked into oblivion by God-knows-who seems to have been broken, at least temporarily.  I long to ask him about it, but have no idea how to broach the subject.    
  
I don’t know what words to say to help him, so I try and be supportive in other ways.  I make sure there’s always food in the fridge.  When I cook for myself I make extra for him – I swear the guy would live on cereal if I didn’t make him eat something else once in a while.  I throw in a few of his things when I do my laundry.  I wake him up in the mornings with coffee to make sure he’s up in time to get to his classes.    
  
And I watch him, and long to touch him.  But I’m used to that; I’ve had years of practice after all.   
  
One night, a few weeks later, we get a bit wasted together.  Not for any particular reason, we just drink a few beers while we play Call of Duty.  After a while we’ve had enough of the game and lie back on the sofa at opposite ends, our legs stretched out side by side.  I close my eyes and enjoy the pleasant buzz of the alcohol in my system for a while.    
  
“I’m sorry, man,” Jasper’s voice cuts unexpectedly through the silence and I open my eyes to see him looking at me.   
  
“What for?” I ask, confused.   
  
“For being so fucked up.  For all those times you had to put me to bed.”  His eyes pin me, stark grey and unwavering, but I can see the shame on his face.   
  
“You’d do the same for me,” I reply lightly.   
  
“Yeah, but you don’t do stupid shit like that.”   
  
I’m silent for a moment and feel his legs shift against mine.  His foot bumps my thigh.   
  
“Why do you...” I correct myself.  “Why  _did_ you do it?”   
  
He leans his head back and closes his eyes.  For a moment I think he’s not going to answer me, but then he starts to speak, hesitantly.   
  
“At first I only went out to the clubs to dance and flirt, to have a good time.  But then one night I was drunk and got carried away with this guy.  He fucked me, and I liked it... more than I ever thought I would.”  I listen, part of me not wanting to hear about this, but I asked him the question and it’s too late to take it back.  “After that I wanted more... but then I couldn’t stop.  There was something about being wanted, about making someone come.  It made me feel good at the time.”  His voice breaks, becoming hoarse as he continues.  “But I knew that it was fucked up, and that I was out of control and it scared me... but I couldn’t stop.”   
  
I reach for his socked foot, hold it in my hand and squeeze gently as I speak.  “So, what changed?”   
  
He raises his head and looks at me again, his face flushed and taut with tension.  “That night... that last time it happened, the night you bathed me and put me to bed…”  He drops his eyes again and his voice is so quiet I have to strain to hear him.  “I felt so fucking pathetic and ashamed.  But you were so gentle with me and something snapped inside.  And then afterwards in my bed...”    
  
He pauses again and I’m suddenly struck with a vivid memory of him crying in my arms.  I squeeze his foot harder, longing for more contact but afraid to offer it.   
  
“You asked me to stop,” he says simply.   
  
There’s a long silence.  There are so many things I want to say to him but I don’t know where to begin.  Eventually I pull out the one thought that seems the most relevant.   
  
“Being wanted doesn’t mean anything if they don’t know who you are.”   
  
I look down at his foot as I speak, and notice that there’s a hole in his sock on the side of his big toe.  I touch my thumb to the skin that shows there while I wait for him to reply.   
  
“Well I guess that’s the problem isn’t it?”  Jasper finally sighs.  “I can’t imagine anyone who knows me actually wanting me.”  He laughs then, but the sound is utterly devoid of humor.   
  
I feel my heart beating hard in my chest and I open my mouth to speak, not giving myself time to change my mind and keep the words in.   
  
“ I want you.”   
  
For a moment I think I might vomit, my palms break out in a sweat and I can hardly breathe as I stare at him, searching his face for a reaction.   
  
“You don’t.”  He’s emphatic.  “You’re way too good for me, Pete.  I’d only hurt you.”   
  
And maybe he’s right.  He’s hurt me already countless times, without even realizing it.  But I don’t care anymore.  I want him to understand how I feel about him and I’m no good with words, so I show instead of tell.   
  
I lever myself up and crawl forward to straddle him.  He looks up at me, his face surprised, but he doesn’t stop me when I lean in and kiss his lips.   
  
He lets me kiss him, tentatively at first.  But then I deepen the kiss, parting his lips with my tongue and he lets out a shaky breath as our tongues touch.  My fingers are on his jaw, touching his stubble and sliding into his hair.  It’s a tangled mess as usual and my fingers twine there, holding his head just so.  I kiss him harder, trying to show him with my actions the things that I’m too afraid to say.   
  
I rejoice as I feel Jasper’s hands on my thighs, then they slide up beneath my t-shirt to find skin.  I moan into his mouth as his thumbs skim my hipbones and a hot jolt of want sears through me.  He grips my hips and grinds up into me and I feel his cock hard against mine.  His tongue’s in my mouth, hot and insistent and it’s all I can do pull away.   
  
“Not here,” I gasp.  “Bedroom.”   
  
If we’re going to do this I want to do it properly.  I want him in my bed.   
  
I disentangle myself from him and take his hand, twining our fingers together as I pull him up.  I kiss him again then, softly on the lips, before pulling him gently down the hallway and through the open door of my room.   
  
I switch the lamp on by my bed; I want to be able to see him clearly.  We stand there for a moment, suddenly awkward with each other.  He looks at me and there’s something almost like fear in his eyes, but I can see hunger there too.  I’m shot through with tenderness and desire all mixed up together and it’s almost too much.   
  
My hands tremble as I reach for his t-shirt and pull it up and over his head.  He lifts his arms to help me, then watches as I strip mine off too.  I remove the rest of our clothes, pausing now and then to kiss him again.  Jasper’s compliant but strangely passive, just watching me and only helping me when my shaky hands fumble with the button on his jeans.  Finally we stand naked, facing each other.  He’s so fucking beautiful, I ache to touch him.   
  
I take his hand again and pull him down on the bed.  We lie side by side for a moment, staring at each other.  After so many years of wanting him I can’t believe that this is finally happening.  He seems to be waiting for me so I take charge and kiss him again.  This kiss turns hot pretty quick and as the urgency builds between us I roll him onto his back.  Our legs tangle and our cocks slide together, hot and hard.    
  
I want him so much but I force myself to slow down and pull away from his lips so I can drop kisses along his jaw and down to his neck.  He tips his head back to give me access and I lick and suck, tasting the salt of his skin as he hums in pleasure.  I move lower, exploring the texture of his collar bones and shoulders.  I find the scar on his shoulder that I know will be there; the perfect crescent made by another man’s teeth.  I trace the delicate skin with my tongue, wishing that I could obliterate every trace of that brutal mark.   
  
I map out the terrain of his body with my hands and lips and tongue as he sighs beneath me.  His fingers slide in my hair, brush over my shoulders, gentle and tentative.  I kiss each hipbone, thankful that the bruises that bloomed on them that night in the bathtub are long gone.    
  
When I reach his cock I nudge it with my nose before licking slowly up its length.  His fingers tighten in my hair and he spreads his legs wide.  I settle between them, taking his cock in one hand so I can pull it away from his body and fasten my lips around the head.  I suck gently, swirling the pre-cum around with my tongue and tasting his sweet saltiness.  He’s moaning now, his hips hitching, and as I drag my other hand up the inside of his thigh to tease the skin behind his balls with my fingertips he grips my hair tightly.   
  
“Please!”  His voice is rough and makes my cock twitch.   
  
I don’t want to break our connection to reach for lube so I stretch my hand up and touch his lips with my fingertips.  He parts his lips and draws two fingers in, sucking and licking until they’re slick with spit, then releases them.    
  
I work a finger inside him, determined to be gentle, but he pushes against me greedy for more.  I carry on sucking his cock as I add a second finger, curving them in as deeply as I can, making him clench around me and gasp.  I thrust slowly, gentle but relentless, and feel him opening up around me as he whimpers and moans incoherently.   
  
I pull off his cock to look at him, he’s flushed and his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide.    
  
“You like that, Jas?”  I murmur.   
  
“Fuck… yes,” his voice is desperate.  “I want you… please, Pete.”   
  
“What do you want?”  I want him to say it.  I need to know that he wants this, there has to be no doubt in my mind.   
  
“I want your cock… I need you inside me,” he gasps, hardly able to get the words out as I twist my fingers inside him and slide my other hand over his straining dick.   
  
“Yeah, yeah you do,” I meet his eyes and smile at him as I slowly withdraw my fingers.   
  
I reach into the drawer beside my bed for lube and a condom and return, covering him with my body, kissing and stroking him until he clutches my ass and begs again.  Then I move back down between his legs and use my fingers again, with lube this time, scissoring and stretching to make sure that I won’t hurt him when I use my cock instead.   
  
“I’m ready,” he growls impatiently.  “ _Now_ , Pete… I want you in me.”   
  
_Fuck_ , his commanding tone makes my dick throb.  I can’t wait anymore and I know he’s ready.  I pull my fingers out, making him gasp.  He’s already got the condom in his hand and tears the wrapper frantically, placing it over the tip of my cock as I kneel over him.  He rolls it down and I gasp at the feeling of his hands on me.   
  
I move back down between his splayed thighs and line the head of my dick up at his hole.  I look up at him as I push inside, needing to see his face, needing the connection.  Our eyes lock together and he bites his lip and moans as I slide into him.  When I’m fully inside I stop for a moment and lean down to kiss him.  He curls a hand around the back of my neck as our lips part.  I feel his hot breath in my mouth and the soft touch of his tongue.    
  
He bucks his hips up, urging me to move; so I do.  Slowly at first, but he pushes up against me, wordlessly begging for more as our kiss deepens.  Tongues slide and teeth nip and soon we’re moaning into each other’s mouths as I push deep into him with every thrust.  I draw back, wanting to see his face again and he looks lost in sensation.  His eyes are closed, head thrown back and he gasps and clutches my hips, pulling at me, making me slam into him.  I feel the tension building in my balls and at the base of my spine and I know that I’m close, but I want him to get there first.    
  
“Touch yourself, Jas.”  It’s my turn to beg now.  “So close… I want you to cum.”   
  
He wraps his hand around his cock and jacks himself furiously.  He opens his eyes and they lock with mine, and then he’s coming, spilling onto his hand and abdomen as his ass wrings out my release.  I tense and shudder, my hips jerking uncontrollably and my cock twitching inside him as I cry out his name.   
  
It’s only when I come down from my high that I see the tears seeping out of the corners of his eyes.  I brush them away with my fingertips and lean down to taste them, and he wraps his arms around me and clings.  I relax into his tight embrace, burying my face into his neck and breathing him in.  I listen as his heartbeat slows and steadies.   
  
When I feel myself start to slip out of him I shift slightly and he releases me.   
  
“Don’t go anywhere,” I drop a kiss on his lips.  “I’ll be back in a sec.”   
  
I dispose of the condom and go to the bathroom to fetch a washcloth.  When I return I wipe him clean as he mutters his thanks.  I climb back into bed and pull him into my arms, hoping that he’ll stay.  I feel like we ought to talk about what just happened, but as usual I can’t find the words.  So I just hold him instead.   
  
His breathing becomes slow and even and I feel him relax gradually into sleep.  But I lie awake for a long time.  I’m trying hard to feel hopeful, but mostly I just feel afraid.   
  
When I wake up in the early hours, Jasper’s gone.  The sheets next to me are cold and I feel a matching icy clutch around my heart.  I roll onto my back and curse myself for being stupid enough to believe that one fuck could change things.  I just hope that I haven’t made things worse.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 


	3. Chapter 3

**Jasper**

I feel like a complete shit for sneaking out of Pete’s bed in the night, but I’m freaking out and I have to get away.

The way he looked at me while we were fucking... no one’s ever looked at me like that before. He looked at me as if I was something precious, something wonderful. And while he was moving inside me I could almost believe that it was true. But once it was over I was swamped with self-loathing again.

I can’t go back to sleep when I crawl into my own bed. 

I can still feel the burn in my ass from his cock stretching me. I long to go back and ask him to fuck me again, so I can lose myself in the feeling and forget about everything for a little longer. But I don’t want to do that to Peter.

_I want you._

I hear his words from the night before in my head, but I can’t accept them. How could he want someone as fucked up as me? How could anyone? Even if he thinks he wants me now, I know I’ll just fuck it up. 

_I’ll ruin things. You’re way too good for me, Pete. I’d only hurt you._

And that’s what I truly believe. I feel as though I have this fucking huge black hole inside me. Anyone who gets too close to me will only be sucked into it too. I can’t do that to him.

And so, in the morning I avoid his eye and act as if nothing’s changed between us. 

I’m making coffee when he comes into the kitchen and I offer him a cup, trying to sound normal. He accepts, but I feel him watching me as I move around – getting milk out, pouring and stirring. He sits at the small table in the kitchen and when I put the cup down in front of him he takes hold of my wrist, his fingers circling it with a grip that’s firm but gentle.

“Jasper.” I freeze, unwilling to meet his gaze but he doesn’t let go. “Jas,” he says insistently. I drag my eyes up to meet his and see the sadness there. It only makes me more sure that I’m doing the right thing. “Can we talk about what happened last night?”

“There’s nothing to say,” my voice sounds hollow. “I can’t do this, Pete. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” I trail off and pull my arm away.

He releases me and I nearly wince at the pain in his face. “It’s okay,” he says. “It was my fault. I’m sorry I started anything.”

I can’t bear to see his expression any longer so I turn and walk away.

XOXOXOX

The next couple of weeks are fucking awful; I feel worse than I’ve ever felt. I try and avoid spending much time at the apartment and work long hours in the college library, trying to focus on work to distract me from the darkness that threatens to consume me. Peter and I hardly talk, and when we do it’s inconsequential and the hurt on his face only makes me feel worse. We still see each other at some point most days but it’s not the same. I’ve withdrawn from him and every day I push him a little further away by refusing to try and fix things between us. When I look at him I see defeat, and I blame myself and hate myself even more for being the one to make Peter feel like that.

I torture myself with the memory of our night together. I lie in my bed, remembering the touch of his lips on my skin and the expression on his face as he slid inside me. I know that it wasn’t just fucking for him; it was so much more. Part of me is desperate to have that again, to let him love me and make me feel special. I want him so much it terrifies me. But I keep him at arm’s length while I tell myself that I’m doing it to protect him.

All the while the urge to go out and get wasted, to find someone to fill the void inside me for a night is growing. It’s a dark and twisting need in my gut that gets stronger every day. I resist it as long as I can. I try to remind myself how it makes me feel afterwards. I think about the shame and the degradation that comes after the high of being fucked by a stranger… but eventually my resolutions crumble and the darkness inside me wins.

I have a shitty day at school. The classes are boring, I get a poor grade for an assignment that I’d thought was okay. As I walk home the skies are grey and heavy with rain and my mood sinks lower with every minute that crawls by. 

When I get back to the apartment I try and watch TV for a while but I can’t relax. There’s a hot itchy feeling at the bottom of my spine that makes me restless and antsy. I have a shower and try to jack off, but I can’t get Peter out of my head as I stroke my dick. I try and imagine him fucking me, his face flushed with desire, but my subconscious won’t co-operate. Instead of pleasure, fantasy-Peter’s face is filled with pain and sadness. 

By the time the water starts to cool my dick is starting to hurt and I still haven’t managed to cum.

So, that night I go out alone for the first time in weeks. I don’t let myself think about it. I just dress and leave, passing Peter in the living room without a word. I feel him watching me as I go and I don’t look back.

The club is noisier, darker, hotter than I remember. I stand at the bar and work my way through a few shots of tequila. Tequila always helps to make me a little crazy. I feel the alcohol hit my bloodstream in a sudden rush and it lifts me, making me high. I fucking love this feeling.

I squeeze my way through to the center of the dance floor and let the music move me, the beat vibrating in my bones as I close my eyes and sway. It’s not long before I have company. He’s a big guy, taller than me and muscular. He’s okay looking I guess, not really my type, but he’s interested in me and that’s all that I need. His hands are on my hips and he moves behind me, rubbing an obvious erection against my ass as he murmurs in my ear.

“What’s your name?”

I turn around and wind my arms around his neck. “Does it matter?”

He chuckles, a gust of hot breath on my neck. “I see. Like that is it?”

I shrug and grab his hand, pulling him through the crowd. I lead him down a dark corridor at the back of the club towards the bathroom, but before we get there he stops and pushes me up against the wall impatiently. His hands are already at my fly.

“I see.” I throw his words back at him with a smirk. “Like that is it?”

“Yeah,” his voice is a growl and his eyes are dark and dangerous. “Yeah, it fucking is.”

He turns me round roughly and slams me into the wall. It’s sudden and unexpected and I find myself rebelling. I’ve never minded being pushed around before but something feels wrong this time.

“Hey…” I protest. But he pins me with the weight of his body and his hands are hauling my pants and underwear down already. I hear the clink of his belt buckle and feel his thick fingers burrowing, searching for my hole. I clench instinctively and yelp as he forces a dry digit inside, making me burn. He removes his fingers and I hear him spit and then they’re back, wet now but I still don’t like it. I find myself thinking of Peter and how he opened me up so carefully, so patiently, waiting until I was begging him for more. This man is brutal and impatient, treating my body as though he has a right to claim it and I realize too late that I’m making a mistake.

“Stop,” I squirm against him, but he’s strong and heavy. “I’m sorry,” I gasp. “I don’t want this.”

“Fucking cocktease,” he snarls in my ear. “You seemed to want it well enough on the dance floor just now.” He shoves what feels like two fingers inside me now, and I cry out in pain.

Gathering all my strength I shove back, using the wall as leverage as I twist out of his grasp. He stumbles back against the opposite wall of the corridor, outrage and anger on his face, his thick dick sticking ludicrously out of his fly. 

“Fuck you, you little shit!” He swings for me, taking me by surprise and I feel his fist connect with my lip. Pain blooms and I taste the iron tang of blood in my mouth. I tense, waiting for the next blow but he just turns and stalks away.

I slide down the wall and sit in a crumpled heap. My pants are still caught around my thighs and I’m shaking uncontrollably. 

XOXOXOX

Eventually I drag myself up and make my way home to find Peter waiting up for me, just like he always used to. I feel my cheeks flush with shame as he looks at me. My face is aching where the big guy hit me and my lip is swollen and split. Peter stands and approaches me, he frowns as he reaches to turn my face toward the light. Then he shakes his head, his face grim.

“Sit down,” he says gesturing at the sofa. 

I sink down, leaning back and closing my eyes. My head pounds with the hangover that’s building steadily now that the tequila high is well and truly over. I hear Pete moving away, followed by the sounds of clattering coming from the bathroom. 

I open my eyes and watch as he returns, bearing cotton wool and antiseptic. He angles the lamp so that he can see what he’s doing and kneels between my legs.

“Lean forward,” his voice is tight, cold. But his fingers are gentle as he touches my jaw. 

He dabs at my lip with antiseptic, cleaning away the dried blood. I hiss at the sting, sharp and shocking.

When he’s done, he heads through to the kitchen. I follow him, needing water and something for the pain in my head. I feel his eyes on me as I swallow the little white pills, draining a carton of orange juice to wash them down. The acid stings my lip again and I wince as I wipe a dribble of juice from my bruised chin.

“So, what happened?” He faces me, his eyes accusing.

“I went to a club,” I make myself meet his eyes. “I’m sorry… I know I said I’d stop. But I just needed…” I trail off, unable to put my thoughts into words and look down at the floor. I focus on the pattern of the tiles beneath my feet as I continue. “I picked up a guy… and I was going to let him fuck me, but it felt all wrong.” I stop again and my heart pounds as I remember the fear that I felt when I thought the man was going to force me.

“But you didn’t?” I can hear the hope in Peter’s voice and I raise my head to meet his eyes again and shake my head slowly.

“I couldn’t go through with it. Something felt different. When it came down to it, I didn’t want it. I didn’t want to be touched by someone who didn’t give a shit about me.” I clench my fists, my fingernails cutting into my palm and my voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. “All I could think about was you.”

He stares at me, his face impassive but I notice a muscle clench in his jaw. “And your lip?”

I chuckle wryly. “He didn’t want to take no for an answer, and wasn’t too happy when I pushed him off.”

Pete doesn’t laugh, he just keeps his eyes locked on mine and I can’t look away. “You said…” he stops and sucks in a shaky breath. “Were you really thinking about me?” 

I nod and take a deep breath, deciding to be honest. I have nothing to lose after all. “It was so different with you, Pete. No one’s ever taken care of me before. You made me feel as though I mattered… but it was as scary as fuck and that’s why I freaked out.” I take a step towards him. “And I’m sorry; I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

There’s a long, tense silence. 

“What are you trying to say, Jasper?” 

He’s not going to make this easy for me and I don’t blame him. I know I treated him badly and he needs me to be honest with him now, so I man the fuck up and finally spit the words that I’m so afraid to say.

“I want you.” And there they are, those three little words. They stick in my throat but I manage to get them out and they hang between us as we stare at each other. I can hear his breathing, my heart bangs in my chest. 

“You mean you want to fuck me?” He frowns, trying to make sense of my words.

I shake my head emphatically. “No!” My voice is sharp. Then I backtrack, the words pouring out of me as I try and explain. “I mean… yes I do, but it’s not just that. I care about you, it’s not just about being fucked. I want more than that with you, Pete, but I’m scared.”

“Me too,” he sighs. He leans back on the kitchen counter and scrubs his face with his hands. He looks exhausted, wrung out, and I long to go to him and hold him but I don’t know if he wants that. I shove my hands in my pockets to stop myself from touching him. 

He drops his hands and looks at me again. “I’m scared too, Jas. I just don’t know if I can handle any more.” My heart sinks at his words, but I let him speak. “I was so hurt, so angry with you for shutting me out after we slept together. That was a shitty thing to do. I know you’re messed up, but it makes you selfish and I can’t deal with that. I can’t keep on picking up the pieces every time you fuck up. It’s not doing you any good and it’s not fair on me.”

I know that it’s the truth, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear. 

“I want to change,” I whisper, my throat tight with the effort of holding back tears. I don’t want to cry in front of him again, I don’t want him to feel that he’s responsible for me.

There’s another long pause as we look at each other across the kitchen.

“Let’s sleep on it,” he says. “Go to bed, Jas. We can talk more in the morning.”

“Okay,” I nod. I’m not going to beg, and I know that he’s right. We both need time to think.

XOXOXOX

Sleep doesn’t come. I’m bone tired but my head is still aching and my mind is tumbling chaotically. I toss and turn, cold and uncomfortable. I wonder whether Peter’s asleep yet, or whether he’s awake and thinking about me – about us. 

I try and imagine there being an ‘us’ – being together, being a couple and what that might be like. For the first time in my adult life I believe that maybe, just maybe, I can fight my demons and manage to be happy. I know it won’t be easy and that the change will have to come from me, but Peter might be the catalyst, the reason for me to make the effort.

I just hope that I haven’t left it too late to try and fix things with him.

A couple of hours later I’m driven from my bed by thirst. Tequila is fucking evil stuff. It feels as if every cell in my body has been sucked dry. I slip quietly through to the kitchen, hoping not to wake Peter if he’s managed to get to sleep. As I’m draining my second glass of water I hear the shuffle of feet behind me. I turn to see Peter standing in the doorway, his hair is sticking up in rumpled spikes and there are dark shadows under his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks me.

“Yeah… can’t sleep,” I shrug, putting my glass down on the counter.

“Me neither,” he sighs, running his hand through his hair and messing it up even more.

We stand there awkwardly, until I realize we’re both shivering in our t-shirts and underwear. “I guess we should get back to bed,” I move towards the door, passing close but without touching him. I hear him follow me. I pass the door to his room and when I reach mine, his voice halts me in my tracks.

“Jas,” he sounds hesitant. “You wanna come in with me?” I look at him, his face is tense. “Only to sleep, I mean. I just thought… some company might be good, you know?”

I feel a flicker of hope. “Okay.” I walk back down the hallway and follow him into his room.

We climb into his bed together and I instinctively roll onto my side, facing away from him. I feel awkward, unsure of whether it’s okay to touch him, but he curls up behind me and pulls me close. His arms are strong around me and his breath is soft on the nape of my neck. Warm at last and overwhelmed by the emotions of the night, I finally fall into a dreamless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Peter**

It’s shocking how right Jasper’s body feels in my arms. This makes three times now. Three times that we’ve done this. Just as before, he goes to sleep quickly, leaving me lying awake with my thoughts while I curl my body protectively around him.

I never expected to hear him say that he wanted me – I still find it hard to believe that he said it. I’d spent weeks waiting and gradually losing hope. Then when I saw him heading out of the door last night, I thought I’d lost him for good.

But now, now I’m in turmoil and I have no idea what to do. Part of me is desperate to say yes to him, to open up and give him a chance. But another part of me is afraid that I would be risking too much. He’s hurt me so much already. I don’t know if I can take any more.

I roll away from him and lie on my back, staring up at the ceiling. A gap in the curtains allows light to filter in from the headlights of passing cars on the street outside. I watch as the patterns move and flicker. Jasper breathes softly next to me and I can still feel his warmth although we’re no longer touching. A long time passes and my head keeps whirling, but my thoughts are going round in circles and I’m no closer to making a decision.

Much later Jasper moves and murmurs in his sleep, shifting position. He rolls over and reaches for me, slipping an arm carelessly across my torso as he nuzzles at my neck, his breath warm and damp on my skin. My heart swells with tenderness as I breathe in the scent of his hair and feel the weight of his arm on my chest.

And that’s when I realize what I have to do. 

Suddenly, it’s blindingly obvious to me that there’s only one possible decision for me. This boy already owns my heart, so pushing him away to try and protect myself would be utterly pointless. If I was going to do that, I should have done it years ago. I can’t make my feelings for Jasper go away and I don’t even want to. So, the way I see it – if there’s even a tiny chance that we can make things work between us then I have to take it. He said last night that he wants to change and I believe him. I know it’ll take time, but I can be patient.

I curl my arms around him, and hold him close. “Okay, then,” I whisper into his hair. “Let’s do it.”

The decision made, my thoughts finally start to drift and settle. I lie there, my limbs heavy with exhaustion – Jasper in my arms and tentative hope unfurling in my chest – and I let sleep claim me.

XOXOXOX

We sleep late the next day and when I finally drift reluctantly into wakefulness the first thing I register is that there is a warm, heavy body lying beside mine and the weight of a hand on my chest. I stir, and start to crank my eyes open.

“Morning.” Jasper’s gentle murmur makes me turn my head to focus on him.

He’s lying on his side, his face just inches from mine and he looks as though he’s been awake for a while. My face splits into a goofy grin.

“You’re still here,” I state the obvious. My brain hasn’t woken up enough for me to be clever.

“Uh huh,” he looks unsure. “Is that okay?”

I take his hand that’s lying on my chest and hold it in both of mine, rolling onto my side to face him. “Yeah, it’s very okay.”

We stare at each other for a moment. I take in the curve of his cheekbones, the violet shadows smudged beneath his grey eyes. His lips quirk in the smallest, most tentative of smiles.

“I was awake for hours thinking,” I say, keeping my gaze on him. “And I think I have to try... if you’re still sure, that is?”

Hope floods his features. “You mean... you want to...” He falters, as though he’s scared of saying the words out loud.

“Be with you – like… in a relationship,” I clarify. “But I do have a couple of conditions.”

“What are they?” He whispers anxiously.

I take a deep breath. “You said that you want to change, and I’m willing to support you. But I need to know that you’re making the effort. I want you to consider seeking some help – a doctor, a therapist – it’s your decision but I don’t think you can deal with this on your own.”

“Okay,” he nods. “I can do that. I probably should have done it back in high school. They tried to make me talk to the school counselor when Dad left... but I never kept the appointments. I’m so stupid. Maybe if I had I wouldn’t be in this mess now.” He frowns.

“Jas, you were just a kid. Don’t beat yourself up for decisions that you made in the past.” I squeeze his hand that’s still trapped between mine.

“So what’s the other condition?” He asks me.

“I know this might seem weird given that we’ve already had sex... but I want to take things slowly between us.” Disappointment shows on his face and I try and explain. “That night, it was amazing, and I don’t regret it. I just think that this is a big change, and given that we already live together – if we just jump straight in with both feet... well it would be pretty intense. And I’m not sure that that would be a good thing for either of us.”

“Okay,” he frowns. “I do get what you’re saying. So, no sex for a while. But what about making out? Is that allowed?” He sounds hopeful.

I chuckle. “Making out is definitely allowed, in fact it’s positively encouraged.” He licks his lips and I know exactly what he’s thinking. “Come here.”

I release his hand and slip one of mine around the nape of his neck and pull him gently towards me. The kiss is sweet and soft, unhurried. I feel my body start to react, it is morning after all and I was half hard before we started kissing, but I deliberately keep a distance between us. I meant what I said about taking things slow, even though I know it’ll be difficult when I want him as much as I do. When we eventually separate our breathing is ragged and his lips are flushed and shiny-wet. I want to grab him again and keep going, but I don’t.

“Come on,” I say, sitting up and pushing back the covers. “I need coffee, and breakfast.” 

I adjust my dick, which is trying to poke its head out of the waistband of my underwear to say hello. I glance over at Jasper as he slips out of the bed and smirk when I notice that he has a matching bulge in his boxer briefs. He sees me looking and grins, unembarrassed.

“Better get used to this if we’re not going to be fucking for a while.” He makes his way to the door. “I’m just gonna get some sweatpants and a hoodie.”

And so we have breakfast together, making coffee, fixing cereal. Just like every other morning. But now the tension that had been hanging between us for the past couple of weeks is gone, replaced by something comforting, something that feels like a new beginning.

XOXOXOX

We tread carefully around each other at first. Our relationship feels fragile initially, as though one careless move could cause it to shatter. But gradually, as the days and weeks pass, we start to relax and things begin to feel more normal. 

We hang out together, mostly at the apartment. Jasper doesn’t say anything, but I know that he finds it hard to be around other people at the moment. Also, he’s avoiding alcohol so it’s easier for him not to be out in bars and clubs for now. So, using work as an excuse, we avoid going out with mutual friends for a while and spend most of our free time together. We do the things that we’ve always done, watch TV, play video games, eat together – only now we also spend a lot of time making out on the sofa.

We watch TV wrapped around each other and I relish the feel of his body against mine. Sooner or later one of us will make the first move, and the other always responds. 

We kiss each other as though we invented it, our mouths moving together, tasting each other for what feels like hours. Our stubble scratches each other’s faces and our lips feel bruised by the end of every evening. We inevitably end up hard and sticky with pre-cum but that’s as far as it goes. We both shower before bed and I jack off with Jasper’s image in my head and his name on my lips, coming fast and furious every time. I assume that he’s doing the same when it’s his turn in the bathroom.

We sleep together every night; sometimes in my bed, sometimes in his. Always clothed, but tangled together as though we’re trying to fuse our bodies into one. The intimacy and connection that we share is raw and frightening, but I think it feels that way for both of us. We’re in this together.

XOXOXOX

A couple of weeks after our relationship becomes official, Jasper texts me to let me know that he’s going to be home late that day. I’m lying on the couch watching TV when he finally gets back. He comes and sits at the other end, pulling my feet into his lap.

“I had an appointment after school,” he says casually. “With a counselor.”

I turn the TV off and look at him. “You wanna tell me about it?” 

“Well, I only went to the student counseling service this morning, to see if they could help me. And they had a cancellation. Normally I wouldn’t have been able to see someone so quickly,” he shrugs. “So, since they offered me the appointment I figured I may as well take it – at least this way I had less time to be nervous about it,” he grins.

I smile back. “So, how did it go?”

“It was okay, I guess.” He looks thoughtful. “It was with a guy called Carlisle Cullen. I liked him. He was easy to talk to. I’m gonna go back and see him once a week for a while.”

“That’s great news Jas. It’s all got to help, right?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I hope so.”

“Did you tell him about me?” I ask, not quite sure why I want to know. But it feels a little odd to think that Jasper might be talking about me with a stranger.

“Of course I did.” He sounds surprised. “He needs to know stuff about my life, and you’re a pretty important part of it.” His words make me grin and he rolls his eyes at me. “There’s no need to look so smug about it. Now shut up and kiss me.” He shoves my feet off his lap and crawls over me, pinning me down on the couch with the weight of his body. I happily oblige.

XOXOXOX

Jasper often talks to me about his sessions with Carlisle, but not always. He tells me the things that he wants to share as he gains more insight into what was driving his self-destructive behavior. It’s not that hard to understand really. Having a father who physically abused him and treated him as worthless has left deep scars in his psyche. Different people find different ways to numb the pain, fill the void – however you want to define it. And for Jasper it happened to be alcohol and the physical release of sex, but also the emotional high of being wanted by his partners, however selfishly and fleetingly. It’s just another form of addiction and he’s starting to understand that now.

Carlisle helps Jasper to think about other more positive habits that he can develop to give him a boost when he’s having a bad day, and works with him on building his self-esteem. It’s not a quick fix but as the weeks pass I start notice the changes in him. 

He starts to smile more, his face becomes less guarded. It’s only when I see him grinning openly one day in the kitchen as we’re goofing around, that I realize how long it’s been since I’ve seen Jasper look genuinely happy. The shadows beneath his eyes are fading. Now that he’s avoiding alcohol he has more energy and doesn’t look exhausted all the time. 

We start running together a few times a week. Jasper used to play hockey in high school but hasn’t done anything physical since then. I’ve always enjoyed running but I enjoy it more with his company. He finds it hard to keep up at first, but he’s young and his body adapts quickly. We push each other hard and get back to the apartment sweaty and panting, high with endorphins. 

One day I come home to find Jasper playing his guitar. It’s been standing in the corner gathering dust for months and it makes me smile to see him playing again. He hasn’t lost his touch. He picks out some old favorites and serenades me while I cook that night. He sings me schmaltzy romantic songs with a smirk on his face. I roll my eyes at him, but my cheeks flush and I feel that rush of warmth in my chest that Jasper always manages to inspire in me.

Jasper starts taking better care of himself. He’s still messy and disorganized, but that’s normal for him. He always eats breakfast now, and does more around the apartment. When he starts making more effort with laundry and doing the dishes, I’m suddenly aware of just how much of that I’d been doing for him before. It had been such a gradual slide into our old habits of me taking care of him and him letting me do it, that I hadn’t really noticed it. But now that he’s taking responsibility for himself again, I can see how bad things had gotten. It’s a combination of these small things that make me realize how far he’s come in a relatively short time and make me feel so fucking proud of him. 

As the weeks pass it’s getting harder and harder to stick to our no sex rule. We haven’t discussed it since our agreement to wait, but it’s only jacking off twice a day in the shower that’s stopping me from taking things further. He doesn’t push me, but I know that he’s constantly horny too. Sometimes he rubs up against me in his sleep and his cock is hard enough to crush diamonds. I’m very proud of my self-control at times like that. I’m not quite sure why I’m still holding back, I just want to be sure that he’s ready – that he’s not going to freak out and run away from me again, like he did the first time. I know if that happens that it would break me. So I wait, and trust my instincts.

And then one day I know that it’s time. I come home and find him cooking. Real cooking from scratch, using a pasta recipe from a magazine that he’s got propped up against the toaster. He’s been shopping and bought ingredients and he’s cooking for us.

I stand in the doorway of the kitchen and find my eyes pricking with tears, because suddenly I really believe that he’s going to be okay. That he’s found new ways to cope and that the strategies he’s using are working for him. 

He glances over his shoulder. “Hi, Babe.” His casual greeting makes me grin from ear to ear. 

“Hi, Jas. What’s all this in aid of?” I keep my voice light, embarrassed by the strength of the emotions that I’m feeling.

“It’s kind of a special day,” he says. He has his back to me now and his ass wiggles in a really tempting way while he stirs something in a pan that smells amazing. “It’s been two months,” he continues. “I only noticed because of the journal that I’ve been keeping for Carlisle… but it’s two months exactly since we got together. I thought it was worth celebrating.”

I’m silent; overwhelmed with a rush of love for him that nearly makes me breathless. I don’t trust my voice to come out as anything other than a mortifying squeak, so I move up behind him and put my hands lightly on his waist and lean in to nuzzle the back of his neck. I nose his hair aside and breathe in the musky warmth and press my lips against his skin. “I love you,” I murmur.

He leaves the spoon propped up in the pan and turns in my arms, sliding his arms around my shoulders and kissing me deeply. Then he pulls back and looks into my eyes with a small smile hovering on his beautiful lips.

“I love you, too.” It’s the first time I’ve heard him say the words and my heart swells with happiness.

We usually eat in the kitchen, but today I clear our stuff off the table in the living room and set it, bringing the chairs through from the kitchen. Jasper has even bought candles and I tease him for being such a romantic, but the huge grin on my face probably gives me away.

The chicken and tomato pasta dish that he’s made is really good. Turns out my boy can cook – who knew? Jasper’s still avoiding alcohol so we drink water with the meal, which is fine by me. I’ve got out of the habit anyway; it wouldn’t seem right drinking in front of Jasper.

He apologizes when he brings the dessert through. “It’s only ice cream I’m afraid, I didn’t want to make things too complicated.”

But he’s bought berries, wafers and strawberry sauce to go with it and has made it look beautiful in the bowls. “It’s awesome,” I assure him. “You’re awesome.” He blushes and reaches for his spoon.

If I wasn’t already sure that tonight was the night, watching Jasper eating ice-cream by candlelight would have removed any last doubts. As his soft lips part around each spoonful and he licks the occasional stray smear of ice cream from the corner of his mouth my dick is getting progressively harder in my pants. I hope that he’s going to want this too; I’m tired of wanking in the shower before going to bed with my boyfriend.

I do the dishes but he insists on drying, even though I tell him he could just leave them to drain. But I like his company in the kitchen so I don’t insist. We stand closer than we strictly need to, our elbows jostling occasionally, and when he gets ahead of me with the drying he stands behind me and gropes my ass while I scrub at the oven dish that had the pasta bake in it. 

“This shit is hard to get off,” I grumble. 

“Just keep scrubbing, Babe.” He presses up behind me and I can feel his erection. “I like the way you move when you do it.”

“Perv,” I mutter. But he knows I love it. 

When we finish up in the kitchen, he moves through the doorway and is about to head back down the hallway towards the living room. I stop him with a hand on his arm. He turns to look at me questioningly and I feel suddenly nervous, fearful of rejection. I take a shaky breath.

“Can we go to bed, Jas?”

There’s a silence and I can see his mind working as his brow wrinkles in confusion. “To bed, like… to sleep?”

I shake my head and feel my face heat. “To bed, like… to fuck.” 

The penny drops and his eyes light up as his face splits into a huge smile. “Are you sure?”

My hand is still touching his arm and I slide it down and take his hand, squeezing it tightly. “Never been more sure of anything.”

We end up in my room and we undress each other slowly. We’ve waited this long, we don’t need to hurry now. The tension crackles and hums between us as we pause to kiss each new warm bit of skin that’s revealed, to explore the textures and scents of each other’s bodies. He’s more solid than I remembered, his ribs less visible, the jut of his hip bones softer. He shudders as I skim my fingers over him, assessing, approving. 

Once we’re both naked I drop to my knees in front of him and nuzzle the soft curls at his groin as he hums and threads his fingers through my short hair. He smells amazing, warm and musky and it makes my mouth water. His cock is hot against my cheek, the skin velvet-soft over the hardness beneath. I tongue his balls first, enjoying the feel of them; testing their weight in my mouth as his hips twitch in my hands. I slide my lips up his shaft and lick delicately around the head, tasting him, my lips sticky with his pre-cum.

“My turn,” he says firmly, pushing my head away. He reaches for my hands and pulls me up, then pushes me back against the bed. I lie back eagerly, watching as he crawls over me, hungry intent on his face. He starts with my lips, kissing me urgently as his hands roam over my torso. He grazes my nipples with his thumbs and I hiss into his mouth as they harden under his touch. I feel him smile against my lips and he pulls back to kiss down my neck.

“Sensitive, huh?” He murmurs against my shoulder. 

“A bit,” I gasp breathlessly. 

And then Jasper’s tongue finds one nipple while his thumb keeps teasing the other and I moan, arching helplessly beneath him, overwhelmed by sensation. He keeps his attention there for a while and then I feel his other hand sliding up my leg to my hip. His thumb traces circles on the soft hollow next to my hipbone and I’m desperate for him to touch my dick. 

“Please, Jas,” I whine, pushing my hips into his hand.

He pulls away from my nipple and looks down at me. I can feel the blood heating my cheeks and he’s flushed too, his lips wet and his eyes dark. He smiles slowly and my cock twitches against his belly in response making him chuckle. 

Jasper lowers his head again but his lips and tongue take a downward path now, moving over my ribs, making me squirm. I feel him pause at my belly button and his tongue dips inside, then lower still, brushing the line of hair there with his lips until I feel warm breath on the sensitive head of my cock. I hear myself whimper, but I’m too far gone to feel self-conscious about the sounds that I’m making. He licks tentatively, making me twitch again and then he sucks me into the wet heat of his mouth and I groan. My fingers find their way into his tangled curls and I tug gently, urging him for more.

He takes my cock deeper, his tongue flickering along the underside, then pulls back again to lick around the head. I feel the tension building and I don’t want to come yet so I pull his mouth away gently.

“I’m so close, already.” My throat is dry, my voice husky. “What do you want?”

He looks up at me, his face still level with my cock. “I want you inside me again. I need you like that… is that okay?” I can see from his face how much he wants me.

“Of course,” I whisper, touching his cheek with my fingers. “Whatever you want is good with me.”

His smile is radiant. “Stay there.”

He scrambles off me and rummages in the drawer beside my bed and returns with lube and a condom. I hold out my hand to take them but he shakes his head. “Let me.”

He rolls the condom carefully down my cock, pumping me a few times once it’s in place. Then he squirts lube on his fingers and reaches behind, preparing himself quickly, efficiently.

“Are you sure that’s enough?” I ask anxiously as he moves to line my cock up at his ass. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s fine,” he reassures me in a murmur, his eyes intent as he concentrates on getting me in position. “I can take it - I can’t wait, I _need_ this.”

I hold onto his hips tightly as he lowers himself down. My body stiffens as I feel the tight heat enclose the head of my cock and my fingers curl, clutching at him as I fight for control. I move my hands away, grasping the sheets instead, afraid of causing him pain. 

“Fuck… Jasper,” I gasp. “You’re so fucking _tight_ …”

“Well, it’s been a while,” he chuckles breathlessly, then slides down further. “God… feels so fucking _good!_ ”

And then I’m in him all the way. His ass is flush with my thighs and he pauses for a moment, a little frown between his brows as he breathes heavily, adjusting to the stretch of my cock inside him. He feels incredible, so hot and tight around me.

He shifts forward, putting his weight on his forearms and captures my lips in a kiss as he starts to move his hips. He goes slowly at first, rocking against me as his tongue slides against mine but gradually getting faster, more urgent. I meet his thrusts and moan into his mouth at the sensation. He sits back then, his body upright and he rides me, raising and lowering himself as he keeps his eyes fixed on mine. He looks glorious, his hard body slick with sweat, his cock erect and bobbing as he sinks down and takes me deep with every stroke.

I reach for his cock and wrap my fingers around him, sliding fast and sweeping my thumb over the wet head. I know that I’m going to come soon and I want him there with me. 

“Please, Jas…” I’m tense with the effort of holding back, “I can’t hold off much longer.”

“Faster,” he mutters through clenched teeth. So I speed up the movement of my hand on his cock and am rewarded as I feel him tense around me and his hips buck. He throws his head back and cries out. His whole body spasms as thick, warm pulses of cum spill out onto my hand and my belly.

“Oh, fuck… _yes_!” My own climax rips through me and I thrust up hard into him, my cock jerking inside him as I come, my body arching helplessly beneath him.

And then he’s lowering himself over me and we’re kissing – messy, desperate kisses with whispered words of love against each other’s lips. I wrap my arms around him and pull him close against my chest. Eventually we break the kiss, still breathless and he presses his face into my neck. We stay like that for a while as our breathing settles. 

When I start to slip out of him, he reluctantly lets me move so that I can remove the condom. We’re both sticky with drying cum and cooling sweat. I’m too tired to move so I lie back again as Jasper goes to the bathroom. I’m expecting him to come back with a washcloth but he’s gone for a while. I hear the sound of water running but don’t give it any thought. I drift off for a while, half dozing in my hazy state of post-orgasmic bliss.

I start when I feel his hand pulling mine. “Come on,” he says. “You’re all sticky.”

“I’m all sleepy,” I grumble, but I let him pull me up and lead me to the bathroom. 

The bath is full of steaming water and he just smiles at me as I look at him questioningly. 

“You ran me a bath?” I say, confused.

“I ran us a bath.” He steps in, still holding my hand and pulling me with him. “I know it’ll be a bit of a squeeze but I thought it would be fun.”

We try and sit facing in the same direction at first, with me leaning against his chest, but the bath is too narrow for that to work. So we end up sitting up and facing each other instead. That suits me better anyway because I can see him this way around, and Jasper looks fucking beautiful when he’s wet. We pour the warm water over each other’s heads and shoulders. His curls flatten against his head and his eyelashes stick in clumps, making his grey eyes ridiculously pretty. 

We wash the jizz off our bellies and take a little more time than is strictly needed washing each other’s junk. We both start to get hard again and end up kissing, until he pushes me back down in the water a little too enthusiastically and sloshes water all over the bathroom floor. 

This distracts us and we both laugh at the mess but then he suddenly turns serious again, his grey eyes intense as he looks down at me. His hair dripping on my face.

“Thank you,” he says. I frown, confused, and he continues, his voice soft and hesitant. “That night… the night you bathed me. I never said thank you.”

His face is utterly serious. I want to tell him that there’s no need to thank me. I loved him then, just as I love him now. He doesn’t need to thank me for anything. But I sense that he needs to say this to me and that it’s important to him that I let him. So I reach up and slip my fingers into the wet hair at the nape of his neck and pull his lips down to meet mine.

“You’re welcome,” I whisper. And then I kiss him.


	5. Epilogue

**Jasper**

“So, how do I look?” I smile as Peter looks me up and down approvingly.

“Fucking hot, of course,” he grins. “But that’s nothing new.”

“You’re just saying that because you want to get into my pants later,” I smirk, stepping closer and grabbing his belt loops to pull him in towards me, dipping my head to nuzzle his neck.

“Damn, am I that obvious?” His throat vibrates under my lips as he chuckles. I move them up and press my mouth to his, kissing him as I slide my hands around to squeeze his ass.

“Yeah you are.” I pull away and meet his amused gaze. “But luckily, you’re hot too so I think getting into my pants is a foregone conclusion.”

Peter pushes his hips into me so I can feel him, hard through his jeans. “Maybe we can just stay home and fuck instead?” 

“That’s tempting,” I sigh, already nervous at the prospect of our night out. “But I need to do this.”

He nods, understanding perfectly. I’ve been avoiding going out to clubs since the night that finally brought us together. But I’m ready now, I want to face those demons and go out and have a good time with my boyfriend. I want to prove to myself that I’ve changed, that I’m different now.

“Well let’s get going then,” he says with a grin. “The sooner we get there, the sooner I can rub up against you on the dance floor.”

XOXOXOX

The club is typically crowded for a Friday night, noisy, hot and chaotic. I stick close to Peter’s side. It feels weird being sober. In my drinking days I’d usually have started even before I’d arrived. I find the darkness disorientating, the flashing lights too bright.

Pete takes my hand and laces our fingers together firmly. He’s watching my reactions closely and I smile reassuringly. I can get into this, I’m just out of practice. But the music will help me get over my inhibitions.

We squeeze our way through to the bar. I don’t recognize the faces of the servers although this is a club I used to frequent. They don’t look too closely at Peter’s fake ID and we manage to get a couple of beers. This isn’t the first time that I’ve had alcohol since I started my counseling sessions, but I rarely drink much these days. I’ve decided to have a couple tonight and see how it feels. I trust myself to be able to stop when I’ve had enough. We clink our bottles together and smile as we drink. 

The beer goes down quickly, probably because I’m nervous. It tastes more bitter than I remember and isn’t particularly enjoyable. But it’s cold and is a welcome distraction from my slight discomfort. It’s too noisy to be able to talk so we stand at the edge leaning against the wall, our shoulders touching, and watch the dance floor as we drink.

I reach to put my empty bottle down on a nearby table and Peter leans in close to me as I straighten up. “You wanna go and dance?” He asks.

“Okay,” I nod, feeling a flush of excitement at the thought of dancing with my boyfriend for the first time.

He drains his bottle and sets it aside, then takes my hand and pulls me into the crowd on the dance floor. We wriggle our way in through the mass of sweaty bodies and claim a bit of space to move in. He puts his hands on my hips, and mine find their way around his shoulders and we start to sway to the rhythm. 

I feel the buzz of the alcohol in my system already, just from the one beer. It’s exhilarating but disconcerting because I’m so unused to it. I move closer to Peter and lean my head on his shoulder as I lose myself in the music and the feel of his body against mine. 

After a little while I need the bathroom so I press my lips close to Pete’s ear to tell him where I’m going. His skin is damp and salty under my lips with his sweat and he shivers as my breath tickles him. I move my mouth to his and kiss him, hot and lingering before pulling away and moving through the crowd alone. 

In the bathroom the air is cool and dry after the humid heat of the dance floor. The bright overhead lights are stark. I head to the urinal and as I pull out my dick to piss I hear the unmistakable sounds of coupling coming from one of the stalls. The grunts and moans are rough and urgent. 

I finish up and tuck myself back in my pants, moving to the sinks to wash my hands. The sounds of skin slapping on skin get faster and louder, as do the incoherent noises they’re making. The unseen men sound as though they’re enjoying themselves, but I don’t want to hear it. I catch sight of my reflection, my face is pale and shadowed. A wave of nausea rushes through me as my mind flashes back to that night when everything changed for me. The sounds are coming from the exact same stall and I’m standing by the very sink that I emptied my guts into that night, all those months ago. 

I push the neck of my t-shirt aside and study the scar on my shoulder in the mirror. The pale curve is still visible against the darker tone of my skin. I close my eyes and grip the edge of the sink tighter as I listen to the harsh cries of release coming from inside the stall. 

I’m suddenly aware that I’m no longer alone, the door to the bathroom swings shut as a guy comes in. He moves up behind me, standing too close and meets my gaze in the mirror. He grins lasciviously as he hears the sounds of heavy breathing and rustling coming from the stall behind us.

“Need some company?” His eyes are dark, full of desire as they rake over me.

“No,” I say firmly, but my heart is pounding and my palms are slick with sweat. “Thanks, but I’m here with my boyfriend.”

I move sideways, putting some space between us and turn to face him. 

“Shame,” he shrugs. “He’s a lucky guy.”

I turn and leave. My legs are shaky but I hold my head high and as the door to the bathroom closes behind me I feel free.

I weave my way back to Peter, who’s still dancing where I left him. I go straight up to him and pull him close. I need to be in his arms. I cling tight, burying my face in his neck and squeezing. Not even attempting to dance.

“You okay?” his breath is hot in my ear.

I just nod and hold him even tighter for a moment, then relax my grip on him. We start to move again. He pulls back to look at me carefully, his brow pulled down in concern so I smile at him and mouth, “I’m fine, really.” He grins back at me as we dance and gradually I feel my tension drift away to be replaced by a warm glow that curls in my chest. 

The club is filling up all the time and the crowd forces us closer together again as the music pounds, vibrating deep in my bones. Peter’s wrapped around me now, his hands tangled in my hair while mine rest on his hips. His lips slide down my neck and skim the hollow of my throat, sending a flush of heat through me. He slips a thigh between mine and I grab his ass and pull him tight against me, pressing my erection into him. He licks my neck and I shiver against him as he works his way up, sucking and kissing until he reaches my lips and we cling to each other as we lose ourselves in a kiss that feels endless. It’s all hot, wet mouths, warm breath and sliding hands seeking skin to touch. The rest of the world melts away.

But eventually it’s not enough and we pull apart, our chests heaving and lips shiny-wet in the flashing lights. Peter meets my eyes and quirks his eyebrow at me, gesturing towards the exit with his head. I grin and nod, then follow him through the crowd with my hands on his waist, his hands on top of mine holding them in place.

We fall into the back of a cab, breathless and impatient. I twist around to kiss him some more, not willing to break the connection, wanting to keep the heat that was building between us in the club. I end up straddling him, my arms pinning him against the seat as I grind against him. My hands slide up under his t-shirt as he moans into my mouth.

Neither of us even notices that the cab has stopped until the driver clears his throat insistently.

“Oh shit, sorry, man.” I scramble off Peter, adjusting my dick which is about to burst out of my pants. I pull some cash out of my pocket and hand it over. It’s more than enough. “Keep the change.” 

Peter’s still looking dazed so I grab his wrist and pull him out onto the sidewalk. The driver grins and winks. “Have a nice night, boys.”

“Oh, we will!” I smirk and raise a hand as he pulls away.

We hurry into our building and up to our apartment, impatient for privacy at last. I fumble with the key in the lock and we finally get inside. The door slams shut behind us.

I turn to look at him and the words tumble out impulsively. “God, I’m so fucking glad that I get to go home with you. When I remember what I used to be like… this is so much better.” Peter’s face is intense in the dim light of the hallway and I see a muscle flicker in his jaw. 

“Yeah,” he replies softly. “This is definitely better. Dancing with you was amazing... knowing that you’re _mine_.”

I move towards him then and his lips slowly curve into a smile as he pulls me into his arms and we kiss again. This kiss turns frantic and we’re tugging and pulling at each other’s clothes as he pushes me backwards down the hallway towards our rooms. My room is the first door we reach and I stumble back through it, nearly tripping as his hand slides down the front of my pants and squeezes.

“ _Mine_.” He growls against my neck and sucks hard. _Fuck_. My dick jumps in his hand.

“Oh shit… yeah.” I pull his t-shirt over his head, breaking the kiss to get it over his face while he does the same to mine. 

We fall onto the bed, kicking off shoes and getting tangled in our pants and underwear as we try and undress while we keep kissing, desperate and hungry for each other. Finally we’re both naked, and he rolls me onto my back and breaks the kiss to look at me spread out beneath him. 

“Only I get to do this,” he says as he slides his cock against mine. 

I thrill at the gleam in his eyes when he says it. Possessive Peter is a big turn on. “Uh huh,” I reply, grinning up at him. “Only you.”

He takes my cock in his hand and crawls down to lick around the head. “And this,” he murmurs huskily between laps of his tongue. “Only I get to taste you like this.”

“Fuck… ” I gasp, pushing my hips up, eager for more. He obliges, taking me deeper and sucking me until I’m cursing and curling my fists into the bedcovers, trying not to cum yet. Just when I think that I can’t hold out anymore he stops and lets my cock slip out of his mouth. 

“Roll over,” he says roughly and my cock twitches. I hope I know what’s coming next. “Let me see that beautiful ass of yours.”

I flip on to my front and he pulls my hips up so that I’m kneeling, my head resting on my arms and my ass on display. I feel so exposed but I shiver with anticipation, waiting to be touched. I love to imagine his eyes roaming over me as he decides what he’s going to do with me. 

I feel his hands first. Soothing touches on my back as he works his way down, kneading the muscles and stroking firmly. When he reaches my buttocks he grips them and his thumbs slide in to my crack, so close to where I want him to touch me. He rubs them up and down, dipping in further with each pass as I push back against him and moan impatiently. 

Suddenly the movement stops and his thumbs part my cheeks. When I feel his hot breath whisper over my hole, I’m shot through with a jolt of arousal so strong that my dick jerks against my belly. 

“Pete… please!” I whine.

“Only I get to do this.” His voice is a whisper now and his breath washes over me again. 

Then finally I feel his mouth on me and I whimper as the wet heat of his tongue teases the rim of my hole in slow circles. He gradually increases the pressure. The sloppy sounds that he’s making are so fucking, deliciously dirty and the sensation of him licking and sucking at my hole is driving me right to the edge. I’m clutching at the pillow and making noises that are almost like sobbing. I squirm against him, pushing back against his tongue, desperate to be filled. 

“Fuck me!” I beg. “Please, I need you to fuck me.”

I nearly cry with relief when I feel him pull away. He moves swiftly and I hear the bang of the drawer and the rip of a condom wrapper. The lube is cold when he drizzles it into my crack but his fingers are warm as he slips them into me, stretching and pressing. It feels good but I want so much more.

“Hurry up,” I hiss. “I’m ready, get it in me _now_.”

He chuckles breathlessly and I feel him teasing my hole with the head of his cock, bigger and softer than his fingers. I rock my hips back and my growl of frustration turns into a moan of pure pleasure as I feel him breach me. I welcome the burn and sting even though it takes my breath away, because I know it won’t last long. So I push back harder, encouraging him to keep moving. 

“You sure?” he sounds uncertain.

“Yes, I’m _very fucking sure_.” I push back again until he’s deep inside me. “Now move!”

He takes me at my word and fucks me hard and fast, slamming into me and gripping my hips tightly. His fingers will probably leave marks but I don’t care. I want him to mark me, to leave traces on my body to show that I belong to him. Just as he belongs to me. 

I’m close already and I know that Peter is too from the sounds that he’s making. “Stroke my dick,” I gasp, wanting it to be his hand on me when I come. He reaches around and closes his hand around me, gripping tight and pulling in time with his thrusts. “Oh fuck… Pete…” I feel my cock spurt in his hand in time with the rhythmic pulsing deep inside me. He groans and thrusts harder, fucking me through it until I feel him shudder against me as he comes too, moaning my name.

When he’s finished he slumps forwards, his cock still inside me and kisses my shoulders. He slides his arms around my torso and whispers how much he loves me against my sweat-slick skin as he holds me.

Later we lie wrapped around each other, trading kisses and soft smiles. Then suddenly Peter frowns slightly.

“I forgot to ask,” he says. “What happened in the bathroom at the club earlier, Jas?”

“Nothing, really,” I reply, recalling how I’d clung to him on the dance floor after my little freak out. I can still see my pale face reflected in the mirror if I close my eyes.

“Only you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” He persists, his arms warm around me and his face concerned.

“Not a ghost, just a bad memory.” I slip my hand into the short hair at the nape of his neck and lean closer. “But it’s all in the past now.” 

There’s a smile on my lips as I kiss him and I feel his lips curve against mine as he kisses me back.

**The End**


End file.
